


Lend Me Your Ear

by paxnirvana



Series: Rock and Fire [2]
Category: Fantastic Four (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Polyamory, Threesome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxnirvana/pseuds/paxnirvana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The complications of powers, love and being Johnny Storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lend Me Your Ear

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to my prior "Get By With A Little Help" but not a direct chapter -- for those who don't like het in their slash.
> 
> Partial ensemble, set in an all Marvel Movieverse fusion. ie: Cameos for everyone! (I do this even though most of the movies ignore, or even contradict, each other completely. Yes, I'm determined.)
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes a while before Johnny figures out what Ben’s been up to. They’re at the big unveiling party for the guy Ben’s been flipping his shit over for weeks now. Captain America. Johnny vaguely remembers him from history books. Mostly because of the flock of chorus girls he was always surrounded by in all the promo shots. Propaganda. Whatever they used to call it. The guy was built, Johnny will give him that. And he had a smile that looked like every toothpaste ad ever dialed up to eleven. Johnny vaguely remembers that he was something special during one of the world wars too. The second one, maybe?

It doesn’t quite explain why Ben Grimm, Mr. No Fun Ever, is so freaked out over this party and meeting this Captain America dude.

He’s probably just another old guy with no sense of humor. Besides, didn’t they already meet him last week? During that thing with the aliens? Johnny vaguely remembers a guy in blue, red and white anyway. He yelled a lot. Gave orders that everyone – even Reed – listened to and shit died. Things blew up. It was awesome and only got better when Johnny got to play the final hero by frying the weapons of the alien ship in orbit before they could fire on Washington DC.

But Johnny goes to the party because, hey, Tony Stark’s hosting the bash and no one with a single active brain cell misses a Tony Stark party. Particularly since Stark hardly throws them anymore. Johnny Storm’s got an automatic invite because he’s part of the Fantastic Four, and the team has bumped shoulders with these new government-run Avengers a time or two already. Mostly just that smokin’ hot red-head, Black Widow, the archer-guy with the mouth, and the really scary dude in the MIB suit so far, but rumor has it Iron Man Stark himself is formally joining them now after the whole alien invasion thing. Then there’s that guy everyone is calling Thor, God of Thunder, too.

God of Thunder. Right. Okay, those had been some big freakin’ lightning bolts going everywhere, but a _god_? C’mon.

He’s not really surprised Spider-man and Daredevil didn’t get invites to this thing though. They’re street-heroes, as Ben calls them, and it’s not like they save the world from total destruction all that often. Just New York City. Pretty much daily. Okay then. So life isn’t fair? Johnny’s not sure Peter Parker wouldn’t shit his pants over getting an invite here anyway. Not that anyone but Johnny knows Pete’s Spidey anyway. Except for maybe Daredevil, who seems to know _everything_ … Well, that guy’s just too scary to tell if it would bug him to rub shoulders with A-list actors and senators and space gods anyway, but Johnny thinks he’s probably too busy being badass to give a shit anyway.

They’d arrived early because Ben was practically peeing his pants over this whole thing from the moment Stark announced it. The big rock had been nearly giddy on the ride over. Johnny’s sure he smiled at least once. Okay, only at Alicia’s dress. Which was slinky, black and barely legal. But, whatever. It’s not like Johnny looked. Too much. Ben’s girl and all. He tries not to perv on her too hard for the old guy’s sake, but she is smokin’ hot. He still doesn’t understand how the two of them get it on… okay, not thinking too hard about that now. Not if he doesn’t want Little Johnny to start getting uppity.

Still. It doesn’t make any sense to him now given how protective of his girl the orange dude usually is, but for some reason, after an hour or so, Johnny’s ended up as the one with Alicia Masters’ hand on his arm as they’re standing beside the table assigned to the team. He’s looking around at the milling crowd of the super-rich and the powerful instead of at Alicia’s dress. There are politicians, business types and old money everywhere. And plenty of other eye-candy too, in glittery, slinky, colorful dresses of all necklines and hem-lengths.  Plenty of distraction. Too bad it’s not working.

He should be in heaven here, out rolling around in the bounty Stark’s provided. But, instead, here he is, Ben’s girl on his arm. And for some reason he can’t make himself park her in a chair and slink off tonight.

He’s really starting to regret not bringing a date of his own. Okay, so he’d figured on pulling one of Stark’s guaranteed cleavage girls instead. Stark’s been off his game for the last year or so, leaving lots of loose ends floating around that Johnny’s more than happy to pick up. Sue says it’s because of the whip-smart strawberry blonde in the killer heels who is CEO of Stark something-or-other now, but Johnny thinks it’s because Stark’s in love with that sweet flying metal suit he built.

Johnny knows he’d be in love with that suit too if he couldn’t already fly on his own. He’s a little in love with it anyway. It looks like pure speed-freak porn with a hot paint job. Like sex in the air. Okay, he’s totally in lust with Stark’s Iron Man suit and wants one of his own. Just because. Metal is sexy, okay? Particularly metal that goes faster than the sound barrier.

But the main event happened half an hour ago, and that’s pretty much the last time they saw Ben. Johnny looks toward the huge open balcony of Stark’s lavish penthouse suite and figures he’s lost in the crowds out there pushing and shoving to get closer to the man of the day: Captain America. Who came in full uniform. With the shield. Go figure.

There’s some kind of jazzy horn-filled music playing in the big main room. Old Big Band tunes played by a live band. And there’s dancing going on too. That swing stuff, he thinks. Everything is decorated in red, white and blue with stars. It’s very Fourth of July in April and retro. Sue and Reed are nearby talking to a broad-shouldered, blue-furry guy in glasses who Johnny swears wasn’t there five minutes ago. He blinks over that a moment, staring.

“Holy shit, that guy’s got blue fur,” he says out loud. “And he’s wearing a tux.” Beside him, Alicia makes a low sound of amusement as he rambles on, “Who the hell has blue fur _and_ _then_ wears a tux?”

“That must be Dr. Henry McCoy,” Alicia says mildly. “He’s a famous bio-geneticist. Really, Johnny, don’t you ever pay attention to the news?”

He reads the entertainment sites. If he’s in them. Space stuff. Well, rocket launches, at least. Well, sometimes. And sports. He pays attention to sports. That’s about it. Though there has been a lot of wank about testing all sports players for active x-factor genes or some bull-crap blowing up the commentary lately. McCoy has to be a mutant. Maybe one of those X-Men Reed’s always yammering on about.

“Huh. I thought Dr. McCoy was that cranky guy on Star Trek who always bitches Kirk out.” He glances down at her, brows raised, his best cocky smile on his face. Wasted, of course. Because, duh, she can’t see it. He shifts on his feet a little as he remembers that. But she’s smiling in that way she has that doesn’t make him feel like an idiot even as she laughs at him.

“Oh, Johnny,” she says, patting his arm and hugging it closer, so he can feel the brush of her breast through that rather nicely low-cut little black dress she’s wearing. With a lacy red bra. He can see that from his angle. Oh man. He loves red. He swallows hard and lifts his gaze off Ben’s girlfriend’s cleavage with effort. Not that she’d know he’s staring down at her rather fine breasts, since she’s blind, but it’s the principle of the thing. No poaching. Even with his eyes. “You’re such a geek sometimes.”

“That’s me, geek city,” he says lightly while looking around rather desperately for another girl to stare at. One who isn’t Ben’s. He wonders, sometimes, if Ben has told her about what they do together sometimes. When the fire gets too high and he needs… Ben. But he doesn’t think so. Or she’d probably have broken one of her statues over his head or something. He shifts on his feet as Little Johnny starts to perk up a bit more. As if finding out the color of Alicia’s bra hadn’t been bad enough, remembering Ben’s rough hands in his flame gets things moving a bit too far. “Hey, we should go find someone arty or something. Think there’s anyone like that here tonight?

Alicia laughs again, shaking her head slightly. “Arty? Really? Could you be any more obvious?”

“What?” he says, a touch defensively. It’s not like he wants to ditch her… okay he does. She’s Ben’s, damn it. Where the hell is the big rock anyway? “You’re an artist. Don’t you wanna talk shop with other arty peeps or something?”

“At a Stark party?” she says, smiling wryly. “Hey, I’m not only an artist. Maybe I’d just like to dance.”

“Can you?” he says then wants to kick himself for being so tactless, but she just laughs again.

“I can shuffle-dance with the best of them, Mr. Storm,” she says loftily, still smiling for some reason, her fingers tightening on his wrist. He’d forgotten how strong she is. She works with stone, after all. “And I promise to only mangle your toes if you stick them under my feet.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he says, seeing no way out of it now, and leads her carefully through the crowd toward the dancing. “Wow, don’t sound so enthused,” she says. He doesn’t answer that jibe, but takes extra effort to make sure she doesn’t get jostled too badly by actually pushing on shoulders to get them to move out of the way as they go. People give way readily enough once they recognize him. Some of them even duck well out of the way before he gets close. He knows those looks, though. They’re ones that wonder if he’s going to burst into flame at any moment. Really, it’s been months and months since he did that. He’s got it more under control these days. Especially with Ben’s help.

Like Wednesday night, and the way Ben just went for it, pushing him face-first into the mattress and... Okay. This could get embarrassing in a hurry if he doesn’t watch it. Johnny shifts himself as discretely as he can in his slacks before he turns and takes Alicia into his arms. Definitely not thinking about Ben again. He glances down. Or Alicia’s sexy red bra.

Johnny Storm bites his lip and for some reason thinks about crying as he does the High School Sway with his teammate’s girl. God, why does life hate him so much lately? Blowing up alien spaceships notwithstanding…

~*~

Four hours later and the party still isn’t looking like it might wind down before Johnny’s sanity snaps. Reed and Sue went home over an hour ago, but Alicia – who Johnny really hoped would go with them – had refused their offer of a ride. She’s waiting for Ben. They haven’t caught more than a glimpse or two of the rock-dude all night long. He’s been locked in Captain America’s rather crowded orbit and shows no sign of budging. There’s no way Alicia’d survive that press. And for some reason, Johnny hasn’t been able to make himself leave Alicia alone since Ben’s not there to hover over her like usual.

Not that she’s in danger of becoming a wallflower or anything. She can dance better than just the lame clutch-and-sway she’d done with Johnny, he sees later. And she talks up a storm to several people over the long evening – including Dr. Blue-n-furry, some earnest bald guy in a wheelchair, and a dude Johnny thinks is the Avenger’s archer but who can’t stop staring at some barely-legal co-ed with a great rack who was currently dancing with a guy old enough to be her father. She talks to Stark’s terrifying woman in killer heels too, who Johnny avoids completely by dancing with Sue. Not that incredibly sharp, incredibly smart, incredibly powerful women scare him or anything… no, really. They don’t.

Then Alicia dances with Henry Pym (who can’t stop looking over his shoulder at his wife, Janet Van Dyne who was dancing with some huge blond long-haired surfer-looking dude who seemed to like tossing her into the air a lot) and about a billion more guys who Johnny tries not to fume about the way some of them can’t seem to keep their eyes off her cleavage once they snap to the realization that she’s blind and so, hey, free show.

He’s about to intervene when somewhere along the line she gets sucked into dancing with Reed. Who is safe as houses. Then somehow when he takes his eyes off her for a second, he turns around to find she’s dancing with Tony Stark instead, of all the fucking people, for two full minutes after Stark effortlessly cut in on Reed. She’s laughing and blushing by the time Stark bows over her hand, kisses it lingeringly, then hands her back to Reed. Who stood uselessly by them like a tree in the middle of the dance floor, smiling his I-have-no-idea-what-to-do-now-oh-God-Sue-help-me-out smile the whole time. Which Sue misses completely because by then she’s out on the balcony talking Science with two other gorgeous women; a tall, cool brunette with pouty lips who is some kind of geneticist and a tiny, well-curved, energetic brunette who apparently came with one of the Avengers and may or may not be an astrophysicist. For fuck’s sake, can’t he get away from science _anywhere_?

Stark slaps Reed on the shoulder when he’s done charming Alicia into goo, whispers something into Reed’s ear that puts an _oh-thank-god-science_ look on Reed’s face before he vanishes into the crowd, leaving Alicia and Reed to finish their dance in a daze. Well, Reed’s dazed as his brain obviously goes to work on whatever Stark had whispered to him while Alicia still just looks star-struck.

It’s something that follows Stark around, that kind of awed, tell-me-where-to-drop-my-panties look. Johnny wants to punch him for putting it on Alicia’s face. Particularly since he somehow managed it when Alicia can’t even _see_ what a handsome fucker Stark is. But Sue would kill him if he started a fight in the guy’s own penthouse.

Again, he wonders where Ben is. The big orange rock’s usually hovering, keeping that kind of smarm away from his precious woman. But since he’s not there Johnny feels, -- and oh god _why_? --, somehow _obliged_ to watch out for her in his place.

He moves back in before Victor von Doom can get her on the dance floor next. Okay, it’s not actually Doom, but Donald Trump seems close enough.

“Johnny!” she says as soon as he takes her arm, her smile blindingly bright. He’s a little shocked she can tell it’s him. He notices she’s sweating lightly from all the dancing she’s been doing. There’s a glittering line of it that leads down her long, bare throat toward the inner curve of her breast. He yanks his gaze up guiltily and his pulse stutters when she adds, leaning closer to say in a hushed voice, “I’m so glad it’s you. I’m exhausted and my feet are killing me. Can we just sit somewhere for a while?”

“Sure thing, babe,” he says tightly, not quite sure why his throat feels so dry as she moves up against him, winding her arm through his and leaning close. He’s been slamming Jägerbombs all night long, and the cloying mix of Jäger and Red Bull is heavy on his tongue. He’s not really drunk. Okay, maybe a little. Or a lot. Well, not nearly drunk enough to keep Little Johnny from semi-permanent half-mast anyway. Besides, all he has to do is a full Flame On and it all burns away anyway. Along with his tux. Besides, he can’t do that here, with Alicia. Only with Ben. Who is nowhere to be seen. For once. The territorial old fucker.

Sue and Reed have said goodbye by now, but the party shows little sign of slowing down. Before he thinks about it closer, he leads her out of the main room into a back hallway.

“Johnny?” she asks him curiously as the sound of people and music falls behind them.

“I just thought you might want some real quiet,” he says, peering at the doors around them. One of them is a frosted glass door that leads to some kind of sun-room, maybe. It’s mostly dark and looks empty. That’s good enough for him. He pushes the door open on a room the smells of plants and water. Apparently, this is one of Stark’s swimming pool rooms. He read somewhere he has about four in this monster of a place or something like that. The only light comes from the pool itself. The silver-blue glow splinters and shifts patterns over the windows and ceiling and Alicia’s skin and dress, making her look even more enticing.

“If you require the facilities, Mr. Storm, Ms. Masters, the room you seek is one more door down the hallway on your left,” a cool, English voice says from the air. If Johnny hadn’t been here before with Reed it would have made him jump. Alicia does startle a bit, drawing closer to Johnny.

“Nah, Jarvis, just looking for a little quiet for a minute for the lady, if that’s okay with you,” he says to the air, keeping Alicia’s hand tucked in his arm when she tries to pull back.

Alicia squeaks a bit. “Who is that?” she asks Johnny in a stage whisper.

He leans closer. Catches a whiff of her warm scent. Tries not to wallow in it. “Stark’s house has a really smart computer running it. He’s pretty cool.”

“Thank you, Mr. Storm, I find you intriguing as well. This room was not scheduled to be open to party guests, however Mr. Stark failed to re-engage the override when he left a few minutes ago. Ms. Masters, please be careful of your footing around the pool. The decking can be a touch slippery when the humidity is high, though the cover, is, of course, unbreakable.”

Johnny looks at the long, narrow lap pool and sees that it is covered with what looks like glass but is probably something incredibly expensive and high-tech and complicated instead, knowing Stark’s rep. It’s not even foggy from the water or the heat, after all, but shows the bluish water beneath in crystal clarity.

“We’ll be careful,” is all he says as he draws Alicia further into the room and away from the pool.

“Very good, Mr. Storm,” the A.I. acknowledges and falls silent.

There are a couple long, low couches set near the windows. He guides her over to one and helps her find it so she can sit down. She does so cautiously until she finds the height, but with grace. He stays on his feet, turning to look out the window at the night beyond, not listening as she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Johnny. This is perfect,” she says, her voice a little husky from all the talking she’s been doing tonight. He’s not sure he’s ever seen her as animated as she’d been all evening before, actually. Sometimes he’d wondered if she was as big a stick-in-the-mud as Ben. But not after tonight. Away from Mr. Grimm-n-blocky she actually shows quite a bit more spirit and life and seems much, much sexier. Which… isn’t a good thing for him to be thinking right now.

He turns and glares out the window. From this angle, he can see a good third of the end of the long balcony-platform-thing that tops the lower tower of Stark Tower beyond. It’s still covered with people, though far fewer than before. It’s nearly one in the morning already, after all. Barely getting started for one of Stark’s parties. Though Johnny does wonder briefly what the hell Stark was doing in this room before them.

Or maybe not. Maybe he was seducing one of those sexy brunettes in here. Or that tense blonde Air Force bombshell who had turned Johnny down cold all three times he’d asked her for a dance. Major Danvers or something. He’d seen her dancing with Stark later. Then Stark’s Air Force buddy too. The snubs had only burned a little.

Okay, thinking about people getting it on in here is a bad idea. It’s making him think similar things. Like about Alicia’s red lace bra. And the way the shifting light on her dark skin makes patterns he’d like to trace with his fingertips. And then maybe his tongue. And oh fuck he should so not be thinking like that about Ben’s woman.

He’s got enough of a buzz that even thinking about Ben makes him remember the last time he came to his room.

The press of rocky flesh into his back, his legs, inside him. The barely-restrained crush of weight. The flame leaping from his body in response, lapping uselessly over that impervious hide, freeing him. And coming. So hard and hot and good and _god damn_ he needs to not think like this with Ben’s girl in the room looking fine enough to eat and Ben nowhere around to stop him from doing something stupid, so stupid and... god how he wants to.

“Johnny?” Alicia calls to him, and he’s suddenly aware he’s panting and thumping his forehead against the window. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m…” his voice breaks a bit, and he pauses to clear his throat, cursing that last drink in his head, “’m fine, everything’s okay. How’re your feet doing? Ready to go back and party down some more, pretty lady?”

One thump. Then another. It’s her strappy heels hitting the floor, he realizes, mind spinning. Why’s she taking them off anyway? Then he hears her stand up, the soft rustle of her dress loud in the silence even with the roaring in his ears and silently begs her to sit back down again. To stay put. To not do exactly what she’s doing, which is to walk cautiously across the floor toward him, one hand out warily in front of her because he’s left her in a room she doesn’t know, hasn’t shown her the boundaries of, like Ben’s drummed into his head over and over again that you need to do for her, the blind lady who’s braver and sexier than Johnny had ever imagined she’d be, but she’s coming over to him anyway. And oh fuck no… don’t touch me… please, he thinks desperately, brains scrambling.

Her hand finds his back, near his waist. He tenses and doesn’t turn, though it’s a fight not to. Her hand spreads out, flattens, slides around him. Full contact the whole way. First one. Then both of them. He shudders and fights his control as she presses closer, her hands finally stopping on his belly, his chest, her arms tight around him. Her face leans against his spine, between his shoulder blades and he really, really wishes he’d taken his jacket off when they came in.

“Johnny, oh, Johnny…” she says, her voice a whisper of wonder. Then she kind of melts against him, her body pressing close from cheek to hip, a knee nudging between his thighs and he feels like he’s going to burst into flame, but he doesn’t, of course, and holding it back only makes the feel of her against him all the more intense, devastating, exhilarating.

“Don’t do this,” he says, his own voice gone hoarse. “I’m not a good enough guy to stop you. Please, god, Alicia...”

“I know about… you, Johnny… he-he told me…” she says and then he’s turning, catching her up in his arms and covering her mouth with his, eating the words right out of her mouth in his hunger. She gasps, surges up, buries her hands in his hair, winds her leg around his body like a vine and kisses him back like she’s starving. And he supposes she is, since she can’t kiss Ben like this and neither can he, and oh fuck _why did he even think that_ and ungh god damn can she _kiss_.

It’s a blur then. Of hands and lips and bodies surging together. She’s supple and strong in his arms. Eager. Vibrant. Her skin, where his hands run over it, is smooth and damp with a sheen of sweat. The room’s too warm then, though that’s not something that matters to him anymore, other than for the way it makes her skin gleam in the wavering light, slicks her under his touch.

His coat hits the floor at the same time her dress does. And she’s every bit as gorgeous as he’d thought she’d be as he lays her back on the spread of them, her breasts peaked under the red scraps of lace, her thighs moving restlessly around his. His hands are pale blurs on her dark skin and he wants to see how she’d look with orange rock behind her as he does this and he doesn’t even know what he’s thinking anymore as he groans, lowers his head and sucks a hard nipple into his mouth right through lace, circling the tip with his tongue.

She cries out. Arches up. Her hands grip his hair too tight but he doesn’t care. He lets her nipple go and leans down to lick, broad and slow, across the inner curve of breast that has been taunting him all night before he switches to the other nipple and sucks it in.

“Oh god, Ben, Ben!” she cries out, her voice thick with desire and Johnny knows that’s what she should be saying and it’s what he’d probably be saying if his mouth wasn’t full of her right now but he can’t let go, his hands moving over her frantically, hauling her up against him. She arches into him, and his cock is hard, like steel, against her, throbbing through his pants and all he wants to do is sink into the soft, wet heat he can feel between her legs when he cups her. She surges against him, moaning, clutching.

“Put your hands on him, baby,” he hears then, said in a deep, rumbling voice from the shifting shadows beyond. “Mark him up good.” And he doesn’t even look up. He knows that voice like he knows the feel of flame, and it’s all okay then.

He rips her bra getting it open. His tie will never be the same as together they wrench it away. She tears buttons off his shirt getting it off his shoulders. He puts his mouth on the rise of her breast and sucks a bruise into it to the sound of her choked cries, the rake of her grasping fingertips down his bare back, her fingernails leaving welts in his skin, and he doesn’t damn well care. He lurches up, balancing himself over her on one hand, his gaze locked on her open mouth, her swollen lips, the way her tongue sweeps out over them. Hungry and seeking. But she can’t see him, so her hands never leave him, her fingers flexing against his arm, his side, his thigh, stroking him constantly.

He drops his hands to his belt and it jangles sharply as he gets it open, then her hands are pushing his aside, shaking as she pulls his cock out to the sound of low praise, the gruff voice telling her how to hold it. How to stroke it. And she does it exactly as told while Johnny closes his eyes and tips his head back and bites his lower lip hard so he doesn’t shout out and come on the spot.

Then a rough hand grips his face, a hard thumb pushes at his mouth, forces him to let his lip go and he pants as he opens heavy eyelids to see Ben leaning over him, the blue eyes blazing from under craggy brows.

“Don’t you come yet, you bastard. Make it good for her first,” he snarls.

“Tell me you brought my condoms,” Johnny manages to gasp even as Alicia stops stroking him to reach for Ben. Her fingertips just brush him before he’s backing away, rooting around in his coat pocket for something that he flings at Johnny even as Alicia calls his name, her voice pleading. Johnny barely catches the packet. Fumbles it a bit, but doesn’t drop it.

“This is for you, baby,” Ben says, shaking his head as he retreats into shadow again. “All for you.”

“No, stay, please stay, baby,” she begs him in return, her voice raw, desperate, hands still reaching toward him. Johnny rips the condom packet open with shaking hands of his own and rolls it down over his twitching cock. Makes sure it’s seated firmly. Then he drops down on one hand above Alicia and catches one of her hands, guides it back to his cock as he turns to face Ben. Catches the blazing gaze. Can sense the fierce longing, the possessive anger barely leashed there. “Stay,” he demands. “Watch me fuck her for you; watch her fuck me for you.”

There’s a sound like grinding rock. Ben’s making a fist. “Just shut your trap and do it, Hotshot.“

Johnny grins then. Leans down and slips his arm under Alicia, who moans and clutches at him. “Don’t let him go,” she whispers, her voice thin, almost as if she’s about to cry and he can’t have that or Ben will kill him, even though it’s the stubborn rock’s fault and not his, because it’s him she’s going to cry for not Johnny, even if he’s too thick to see it and oh fucking god why is this his life now? How did this even happen. The three of them. Stuck like this now, forever, because of one stupid, stubborn rock of a man.

“He won’t, I won’t let him,” Johnny promises, and he knows it’s true, like he knows he’s going to fuck this woman until she screams both their names and then, if he’s lucky, Ben will fuck him into fire and, maybe, maybe someday Ben will finally relent and fuck her too and then everything will be golden .

But right now… right now he rolls Alicia over, bringing her up on top of him as he lays his back against the cool tile floor, his body already warming it. Spreads her legs over him until she’s hot and warm and wet right on top of his cock. He tugs at the sides of her sexy red lace panties; the thin straps are nothing, snapping easily under his hands. He pulls the fabric away from her slowly, carefully, her hands clenching, flexing against his shoulders, her breasts swaying over his face.

“Always wear red underwear for me,” he says, his voice husky, and arches his neck high enough so his lips rub against the sleek bottom curve of one breast. “So I know you want this.”

“Ben picks them out for me,” she says, panting again, her hands flexing against him hungrily. “Are they red?”

“Red like fire, baby,” Ben says from beside them. Closer again. There. Right with them. “The way I like it best.”

Johnny shudders under her, shocked by the surge of want that surges through him, that he knows Alicia can feel. “Oh,” she says, and some tiny thing still clenched in her relaxes. “You love him too.”

And Johnny looks up at her, at the smile and the light and the wonder in her face. He wraps his hands around her waist, lifts her up just enough and pushes inside her in one smooth stroke. Hates the condom that separates him even that much from her wet heat even as he knows how necessary it is. Above him she arches, throws her head back and gives a low cry. Her breasts bounce deliciously. He wants to bite them. To suck them into his mouth. The nipples are stiff. Hard. Tempting. Her ruined bra sways against her sides, teasing, taunting him to pull, to bring her closer. Rub on her. Rub her all over him.  But he doesn’t. Because he wants him _to see_. To look at her. And to want, just like Johnny wants.

Then as he’d hoped, as he wanted most, finally, finally he catches a glimpse of motion as Ben reaches toward her only for him to stop, fist his big hand and pull it back. And it makes Johnny angry because he knows she can’t see that. That she missed that moment of honesty because she’s blind and Ben knows it and takes advantage and it makes Johnny want to break his damn stubborn skull open and pour some sense into his head only he’s pretty sure that wouldn’t work and oh god, she’s hot and tight and wet around him and he can see Ben’s gaze is fixed on where he’s going into her, into his woman – their woman now – and Johnny gasps and has to close his eyes and stop watching Ben or he’s going to come too soon, because he’ll be damned if he’s going to disappoint Alicia now.

She deserves better than that. So much better than him. He can’t give her what she wants most, but he can give her this instead.

He feathers his thumbs over her clit, rubbing her through hair and slickness, slow and firm, and she gives a soft little shriek, arching over him, her hands flying to his wrists, clutching at him as if she’s not sure if she wants to pull him away or press him closer. So he does it again. Timing it with another upward thrust, again and again, sure and relentless, until she’s shivering and crying and clenching tight around him and it doesn’t matter anymore. He lets loose and pounds up into her until he comes too in a burst of white-hot relief that he keeps firmly under control even as he lets himself fly.

“Oh Christ, Jesus God, sweet Mary Mother of God,” Ben’s saying beside them, his tone rough, even rougher than normal. As if it might be killing him to watch this, even though he set them all up.

Johnny’s gasping into Alicia’s hair where she’s crumpled down over him. He can feel her heart pounding hard against his, her breath washing heavy across his arm, her body slack with completion. She’s facing Ben, even though she can’t see him, and Johnny strokes down her back with one hand and reaches out his other, her fingers deliberately entwined with his, until she catches on and stretches her fingers out with his until they both can touch the rock-like knee beside them hidden beneath formal wear.

And when, after what seems like forever, and might have been, Ben finally reaches down and lets his huge hand settle over theirs, gently, so gently, Johnny smiles in triumph and closes his eyes.

\--end--


End file.
